


Lightning Moon

by threecee



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-28
Updated: 2012-08-28
Packaged: 2019-11-05 16:24:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17922263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threecee/pseuds/threecee
Summary: Courier with important microfilm runs into difficulties under the full moon.





	Lightning Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Pic Fic challenge on Live Journal.

The slight man in black wove his way between the trees and undergrowth assisted by light from the full moon filtering through the trees. His body ached with fatigue and the tension of trying to combine silence with haste. The enemy was close behind. He still wasn’t certain how many there were, but he had recognized one of them: a top enemy agent, cunning and ruthless. They had been following him since the ambush at the first rendezvous point. He had barely escaped and now his only goal was to survive long enough to get the information to the backup contact.  
It was a sultry night, with heat lightning flashing on the horizon. His clothes were plastered to his skin with sweat and the black cap that concealed his fair hair itched distractingly. Once he handed over the microfilm, he wanted a long drink of cool water. That was all that kept him going, duty, and the thought of water.  
The trees thinned, revealing an open field ahead. He turned right; to stay within the shelter of the tree line, but there was sudden crashing in the bushes in that direction. Too close! He would have to risk the field. 

The glint of moonlight on barbed wire was all that saved him from running directly into it. He dropped and crawled under it, stubble rasping his skin through his black turtleneck. A bank of heavy clouds drifted across the moon and he took advantage of the sudden darkness to stand up and run again. 

There was a farm to the right now. The cluster of buildings was dark. Maybe he could hide in a shed or the barn and turn the tables on his pursuers. He veered toward the buildings as thunder rumbled in the distance. There was an unearthly howling noise from behind him and the farm dogs started barking in response. Several dogs from the sound.

With a curse, the man turned away from the farm and vaulted a five-barred gate as a gunshot cracked from behind. He landed on a paved road bordered on both sides by a tall, thick hedge. The road curved to the right ahead, an easy path to his rendezvous if he could stay alive long enough. 

Looking back, he saw a slim figure silhouetted against the horizon. He raised his gun and fired. The figure dropped, but there was a simultaneous stab of pain in his right arm. His gun was on the ground, dropped from his numbed hand. The enemy was up again and rushing towards him. No time! 

Holding his wounded arm, he turned and raced along the road. The storm seemed to be racing with him, lightening alternating with glimpses of moonlight, crashes of thunder drowning out the running footsteps closing on him from behind. The rising wind drove dust and dead leaves into his face. 

There! Something just around the curve... a car. He stopped gasping for breath and fumbled for his flashlight. Flash, pause, flash. A moment of dread that it wasn’t his contact, and then the lights of the car flashed, flashed, paused, flashed. Yes! Fresh energy surged through him as he dove for the safety of the car. The back door opened slightly, and he wrenched it the rest of the way and launched himself into the back seat. “Go! They’re right behind me!”

“You have the plans for Operation Lightning?” the shadow in the drivers’ seat asked coolly. 

“Here! For God’s sake, go!” He slapped the microfilm into the demanding hand. 

“In a moment. We really should wait for my partner. But you deserve a nap after all your efforts.” The interior light came on and a gun was pointed directly at him. He had just time to recognize the enemy agent and his total failure before the sting of the sleep dart and then nothingness descended.

The storm finally broke with slashing rain as the front passenger door opened. “You have the plans?”

“Right here,” the driver patted the pocket of his crisp light gray suit. “Get in before you get water on my upholstery.” 

The hunter pulled off his dark cap and ran a hand through his blond hair. “Four THRUSH operatives and the plans for their Operation Lightning. Not a bad night’s work, Napoleon.”  
“Mr. Waverly should be pleased for once. You did a nice job of herding the courier to me, my little Russian sheepdog.” The driver ruffled the blond’s hair, then started the car and drove away as the moon peeked from the clouds once more.


End file.
